Forgotten Fire
by Yueres De Leo
Summary: She could remember who she was. She was a Baggins of Bag End, a respectable hobbit with a little bit too much of Tookish blood. She was a peace loving creature, found of nature, found of warmth, found of home. She could remember all of that just alright. The detail everyone seemed to worry about was the fact that she couldn't remember them, nor him, at all.


Okay, so I know I have other fic, but I want to rewrite that one and this just kind of have being haunting me since last week, so here we go, hope you like it.

A/N: Even if I wish it was, English is not my first language, so please don't be so harsh on me.

A/N: If you want me to continue, please leave review!

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I do not own the Hobbit.

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Vaguely, a part of Thorin's mind had noticed someone standing next t0o him- Probably Kili, he thought when he let himself a minute to think about something different from what he had been thinking of the last week, just after however had been left. He could remember his nephew, sometimes both of them, coming inside the tent to bring him the food that he had barely eaten, much less tasted; he could remember both Fili and Kili, along with Balin for probably moral support and Dwalin for matters of strength if it was due to be used to make Thorin react, trying to convince him of minding his own injuries.

Broken ribs, deep cuts, superficial cuts, bruises, and other types of injuries had been spotted on his body by Oin when the healer had treated him for the first time after the battle. Giving to the current circumstances, the king decided that had been treated once there was no need for a second time if it meant he needed to leave the chair he had been sitting on for the last days- If it meant he had to leave the injured hobbit lying in the bed before him, Thorin would gladly bleed to death, or suffer from infection. Until she didn't give more signals than breathing and heartbeat he could not and would not move from her side- Until she opened her eyes, it very well could be a dream.

He had had plenty of those before.

Before the prince of Mirkwood, Legolas, had found her almost under a pile of dead orcs a week ago, bringing her to the members of the Company almost immediately.

Until that moment when he had ran inside the tent with Balin hot on his hells yelling that he shouldn't move at all, until he pushed through the small crowd near the door that consisted of nurses and the Company and saw her face almost framed by the bandages covering the injury by her head, Thorin hadn't not wherever to keep living or not.

When he woke up after the battle was to find nurses and Oin hovering over him, commenting of how close to a miracle was his awaking, of how against all odds his nephews were alive and in recovering, Balin giving exact information about the general state of his kingdom and people. After a minute, or maybe after two, he had automatically tried to remember the last thing he had seen before the darkness took over him, going through the satisfying memory of Azog's head rolling over the bodies of his army, the horror when he saw Fili being attacked by a group of wargs that obviously outnumbered him, the not small degree of pride he felt for seconds when Kili appeared almost out of nowhere to help his brother. The sharp pain that brought him to his knees, the dizziness when he looked up to the sky.

The sudden relieve when brown eyes found his eyes, when a small frame sat by his side, when small hands shook his body in an attempt of shaking away the apparent death that was near him. The hollow on his stomach when the same small person draw a sword that was more a letter opener than a proper weapon, staving the warg that she noticed had stood behind them before taking a last look at him, charging to her enemies shortly after.

If Thorin would have been able of doing anything at that moment, he would have punched himself on the face.

Hobbits where supposed to be gentle folk, and even though he knew there was no gentler soul in all his kingdom, Bilbo Baggins had saved his life in battle with nothing more to defend herself than a poor excuse of a weapon. He had protected him against much larger and stronger enemies. Even after he had almost killed her on the doors of his own home, even after he had pointed at her and accused her of betrayal, even after he had exiled her with no second thought.

Even after he had betrayed and broken their feelings, as fragile and recently uncovered as they had been.

So when he realized that he had almost died without begging for her forgiveness, Thorin had asked for her. And maybe the most painful part of that moment had not been the almost rough touch Oin had been using with him, but the blank expression on Balin's face, and the silence without answer after it- Believe it or not, Thorin was much too close to wishing to not have awaken at all. His mind being clear after the clouding desire his heart and mind had felt once they had been in presence of the gold guarded by the dragon, could not help but ask himself over and over again why. He hadn't needed Fili and Kili refusing to look at him for the first days to feel miserable, the memory of his beloved scared eyes as his hands found their way to her neck with the purpose of killing her was enough.

The knowledge that he was indeed under the influence of the same sickness that had driven his grandfather mad did nothing to lift the pain from his heart.

Now, even if he knew it was not the way he should behaving and even if he knew there was a kingdom that would need him sooner or later, he found himself incapable of doing anything else from what he could actually do for her.

So he looked at her face. Hold her hand. Prayed for her to wake up. Cried over her wounds, both the superficial and the internal ones, because the broken heart lying under layers and layers of bandages and almost cold skin was without a doubt his fault.

_"__Don't you worry, your majesty, I'll take you all out of here" Thorin stared in almost shock the small hand taking his much bigger one between the bars. Looking up, the dwarf noticed the smile on the hobbit's face, even when he could feel as well the tiredness on her voice; how could she be so positive when she most probably could barely sneak the guards? How could she be so confident when she was utterly tired? When she had to do all the work by herself? He could not understand, and he certainly couldn't understand either the warm on her chest and the fast beats of his heart when she squeezed his hand a little, as to reassuring that everything would be indeed okay "You'll have your kingdom back, even if it is the last thing I do"_

_Not only did Thorin found himself believing in her words, but as well found his hand squeezing hers back, his eyes still staring at her face, even when she was already asleep. _

"I'm so sorry" The king clasped the much too small hand between the two of his, feeling it impossibly fragile as he brought it close to his face; worryingly rigid, impossible cold, not at all like it was supposed to be- Not at all like he remembered it to be. How long had it been since he first hold her hand? Since that day inside Mirkwood's dammed dungeons, between the bars of the cell those three-hangers had locked him in? Since she had smiled tiredly at him before falling asleep on the floor, holding his hand as if to chase away nightmares? "Please, come back, even if it is to tell me you won't forgive me" He mumbled, sure that by that moment his body had completely dried of tears. What would she say if she had seen him crying by her side, sometimes even to sleep?

He could take thousands of years of teasing if it meant he could hear her voice again, instead of the heavy and cold silence inside that tent. He would take her scolding of how he needed to be strong now more than ever, with his people recovering from such a big and bloody battle, if it meant he could see her small frame take the position of a mother scolding her child, a hand on her hip, instead of her still frame on that hot. He would make a fool of himself, or treat gentle every elf he could come across with in his life if it meant he would see her smile again, instead of that pale and cold looking face, the one that reminded him she was not just sleeping, because even in peaceful sleep she had always looked like the sun.

"I will accept it- I _will _accept anything you decide, grant your every wish even if is for me to stay away, listen to everything you want to say even if is words of hate towards me. I will, I swear I will… so please, just…" His voice broke, but no tears came out of his eyes- Yes, there were none left "Just come back"

If he would lose his love over a stone, he would never forgive his grandfather for finding it.

He would never forgive his father for disappearing and not bearing with hit instead of him.

He would never forgive himself for hurting his loved one when she was truly trying to help him, when she tried to make him see the truth, when she tried to protect the group of dwarves that had become her family even if there was only a limited number of things a hobbit could do.

Looking up, he resumed to stare at his beloved. As usual his words seemed to have gone through deaf ears, for it made no apparent effect- It crushed his heart to unimaginable extends to look at her still frame, knowing that she was not precisely sleeping; if he had known any of these would have he paid more attention to those small moments that know were priceless for him? Those countless nights under the stars when they had all slept around the fire during their journey. If he had known how deep his love for her was going to be, would have the journey itself being different? He could imagine it quite clear- He could imagine her smiling face every morning, her soft and gentle words whispered so she would not wake anybody, her hand in his while riding side by side.

It would have being beyond pleasant.

Maybe it was because she had being in the same position since Legolas brought her in that Thorin notice so quickly the small movement of her head, the way it started to roll to one side slowly, and the way her eyes were pressed together even more tightly than before. Thorin felt his throat going dry when a small sound came from her parted lips, or when the hand between his own suddenly squeezed his grasp. Standing quickly without minding one bit his injuries and letting go of just one of her hands, he turned around to the entrance of the tent.

"OIN!"

Even faster than immediately the healer was inside the tent, looking alarmed and surprised, maybe because it was the first time Thorin had decently called for someone in the last days; behind him Balin, Dori and Kili entered as well, doing the same was Oin and looking for any open wounds or recent injuries on his person- Maybe Thorin should have felt offended because of them thinking he was foolish enough to make himself any harm on the presence if his beloved, but the weight of the situation made him willing to overlook that detail for the moment. Before opening his mouth he caught Kili's eyes staring wide eyed at something, and noticing that it was not upon himself, the king followed his nephew's eyes until he even turned around, finding himself looking at Bilbo's face.

And her half opened eyes.

Thorin was certain he had never being so happy of seeing someone yawing until that moment.

"Bilbo" Without thinking about it twice Thorin embraced the hobbit, holding her close to his body by her shoulders, his face on her hair. He could feel her heart beat as strong as ever, he could feel the warmth slowly returning to her weaken body- He could feel life coming back to his being, calm and relief pushing away all the sadness and guilty that had been there, even if it was just for a moment. A small smile was all he could muster, for his whole being was too busy _breathing _again; never mind the battle he had just gone through, never mind the dragon, never mind _Erebor, _the greatest achievement in all his life had been to keep living without knowing when she was going to wake again, or if she was going to open her eyes at all "Oh, Bilbo!" He could see without any regrets or second thoughts that the creature now on his arms was even more precious than the whole treasure inside that mountain, or than the stone on still on Bard's hands.

Thorin couldn't care less.

In between his stupor the king noticed a small yet incredibly warm hand pressed to his chest, not applying enough pressure for him to immediately notice her intention; when he realized what she was trying to do he let go of her slowly, carefully, looking down at her with a look that slowly showed pain at how she had wanted him to release her. It was not enough for him to stop feeling relieved he could actually see her moving and basically _living,_ but it was enough for his voice to sound slightly broken when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Bilbo?"

_She has not forgiven you. _

It was not that.

He could swear by his beard and his ancestors beard that it was not that what he understood from her eyes.

But maybe he was so utterly afraid of reality that his mind was playing with his eyes, just to push away what Thorin didn't want to see. But then again, he had already said there was absolutely no way he was going to run from the consequences of his actions, not anymore and even less when it had to do with Bilbo- So why? Why couldn't he see the fierce hatred that was sure to be in her eyes? Why couldn't he feel the fear he had felt that day on The Gate when he had… when he had tried to kill her in all his madness? Why couldn't he see a disappointed look? A frown? A tear? Not that he was _asking _for them, in fact he would gladly go through war again if it meant he would never see her crying because of him ever again, or to simply cry for that matter.

But, even if he knew that...

Why… the only thing he could see in that lovely face of hers, was confusion? A strange type of confusion, one that left Thorin with an extremely bad taste on the mouth.

"Who…"

Her voice was hoarse, probably for having being deprive of water for so long- In his concern Thorin only thought at last to make a hand signal for someone to bring the hobbit water. Behind him was movement after that, but his eyes were glued to the smaller one eyes, the eyes he had been so eager to see for what for him was an eternity. He took a second to see the color going back to her face, but she was still too pale; he noticed as well her hair had grown, now curls hanging from her shoulders, a bright and healthy color of honey brown adorning her head. Even when she was obviously tired and maybe a little bit feverish, thing that he would insist on Oin to treat, she was still as lovely as the sane part of his mind could remember.

But even if relief was not small inside his chest, he couldn't help but still remember the look on her face. He could not help but repeat the only word she could muster on his head over and over again, trying to guess what she was tried to say- Kili hurriedly approached her with a glass of water on one hand, a smile waiting to grow on his face, his eyes just a little bit watery. But when he handed her the glass, she didn't move to take it. Ever so slowly Bilbo pulled away her hand, the one that until that moment had been pressed to Thorin's chest, and the king found that he missed her touch immensely. At least he was still holding her small body by the shoulders as gently as possible, not wanting to scare her.

She didn't seem to mind it.

Actually, she didn't seem to even notice it, her confusion directed at him. Once she stared at Kili, frowned a little, and stared back a Thorin, as if what she saw wasn't as nice as it had been at the beginning.

Opening her mouth, she spoke a few words. As horse as it still was, it was not enough for the presents inside the tent to not understand- Thorin know, oh how he knew, that it had not been enough for his heart to not break.

"Who are you?"


End file.
